Request - Bad Touch Toddlers
by DemonWolf37
Summary: The BTT have been turned into babies and Germany has to look after them until the spell wears off. Rated T for swearing.
1. Chapter 1

Bad Touch Toddlers

**((Short prologue is short... Chapters will be longer than this.))**

"FRANCIS!" the currently pant-less* Brit shouted, "You and your bloody gang of hooligans had better not be behind this!"

France and his "bloody gang of hooligans," (AKA, the Bad Touch Trio,) were, in fact, behind this. The BTT were a bit infamous for pranks such as these, and with both France and Spain in the group, England tended to be the trio's primary target for the majority of their pranks.

"That bloody frog..." England grumbled as he pulled out his phone and dialled France's number. It only took one ring for the Frenchman to pick up.

"Oui?"

"Francis, return here this instant and return the things you stole from me!"

"Oh, Angleterre, your home was broken into? How terrible! What did they steal?"

"Don't you dare play dumb with me, frog! Bring them back this instant, or I swear I'll turn you into a toad again!"

"How uncreative of you, mon cher. However, sadly I have no clue as to what you could be referring to. But if you're so insistent on my coming over, I'll be more than happy to-"

"Don't you dare!"

"Mon ami, a moment ago you were practically _begging_ me to come over. No rain checks, I'll be over in five, wear something nice."

"Frog-!" but England was too late as France had already hung up.

England grumbled something obscene under his breath, but he had pretty much expected this to happen. He'd already prepared countermeasures as well. The next person who walked through that door was going to get it. And since the frog had called him 'uncreative,' he was going to make sure that whatever the effect was, it would be randomly selected from spells that England had never preformed on the frog! How's that for uncreative!

England disappeared into his basement again to gather some canis root ashes- the final touch on the spell. England had about five minutes- which should be plenty of time to-

"Mon cher!" France said, entering England's home four minutes early, camera in hand, "I hope you don't mind but I brought Spain and Prussia along as well! Mon cher? Angleterr-"

_Poof!_

*silence*

*crying*

* British 'pants' not American 'pants.' They stole his underwear. XD


	2. Chapter 2

England jogged up the stairs to the ground floor- a jar of grey ashes in his hands. His spell was finished- he just needed one last touch-

*crash*

England dropped the jar, the glass shattering all over the floor. His arm landed dangerously close to one of the larger shards but he was luckily unharmed. He got up and dusted himself off, looking back to see what he had tripped on. A lamp. An overturned lamp.

"What the bloody-?" England would have to finish his thought later, as there was another crash, coming from elsewhere in the house. Deciding to leave the broken jar alone for now, he went off in search of the cause of the noise.

The noise had sounded like it had come from the front room, so what was-? Oh. _Oh no._ Right next to the door, in the centre of England's magic circle, were three lumps of clothing. The other two were empty, but sitting right in the middle of the blue and red slump of clothing was a baby. A blond-haired, blue-eyed French baby.

"Fuck-" England hissed out as he went to pick the now, maybe, one-year-old Francis, "Well how's that punishment for you, you bloody frog? Now you aren't wearing any pants either, so how's that?"

Francis peed on him. Right in the face. Waving his arms about and giggling as if it were a carnival game.

"You bloody twat! You insufferable bloody wan-" England stopped yelling. Francis was crying. "France?"

Francis let out a scream that would shatter most eardrums.

"You're... an _actual_ baby..." England let this information sink in whilst Francis continued crying, "An _**actual**_ baby... Bloody... Shhhh, Francis, shush," England started bouncing the childized France, trying to quiet him down.

It took a long time, but finally France had quieted down, more or less relaxing in England's arms, reaching to grab the Briton's bushy brows.

"Ow..." England muttered unenthusiastically as the French child actually managed to grasp a handful of his eyebrows.

Now that France had finally settled down, maybe England could- *crash* Francis started crying again. England looked suspiciously at the other two piles of clothing.

"Shite..." he set the crying France down back on his pile of clothes, "Stay here, France."

France screamed in response.

"Shush, I have to find Prussia and Spain before they get into trouble... well..._ more_ trouble..."

England left France alone and went off in search of the other two hooligans. He started walking back towards where the overturned lamp was. Surely one of them had to be somewhere nearby, right?

Sure enough, baby Spain sat in front of it... in the middle of the broken jar... sucking on a large piece of broken glass.

"No, no, no, no!" England rushed over, trying to quickly- yet somehow carefully- pry open Spain's mouth and pull the glass out. But Spain clamped his tiny jaw as soon as he realized what England was after.

"God damn it, let go!" England growled at the tiny child, trying not to just yank the sharp glass from his mouth, "You're going to cut yourself you damn brat!"

And sure enough, Spain spit out the piece of glass in favour of screaming his little lungs out, a bit of blood on his lips.

England picked up the crying child and started walking him back over to where France was still sitting.

"You're God damn lucky you didn't swallow one of those pieces, or you'd _really _be screaming..." England muttered, despite the fact that Spain probably couldn't scream louder if he tried.

England sighed and set down the screaming Spain next to the crying France and went off in search of Prussia.

He must have searched the house three times without any sign of the little albino child. And the house was eerily silent as well...

"Prussia? Pruuuusiiiaaa?" England called out. After a moment's hesitation he called out, "Preußen?" He could have sworn he heard a quiet "kesesese..." coming from the front room.

England's immediate search revealed nothing. France and Spain had more or less quieted down and simply sat there giggling over some baby joke apparently...

England sighed.

"Do _you two_ know where Prussia is?" he asked, silently cursing himself for even thinking to ask them.

They just giggled louder... Shit, maybe they did know.

"And where might he be?" Not even England could tell if he was being sarcastic in his asking or not. Either way, if they actually managed to answer it'd be a miracle.

Spain just giggled while France shook his head. _'Great,' _England thought, _'even when they're bloody tykes they plot against me...'_

"If you tell me where Prussia is," England said, turning to baby Spain, "I'll give you a tomato."

Spain waved his arms around violently... probably an indication of "Give me the fucking tomato."

"Uh-uh-uh, first tell me where Prussia is." Could babies even eat tomatoes? Did England even have tomatoes? I mean you can guess how much cooking he did on his own...

But with the "promise" of tomatoes, Spain quickly complied and pointed. Not to any of the hiding places England had searched, but up.

"Where...?" England looked up, "Oh... oh dear..."

Luckily England had his cell phone on him... he needed to call someone...

"Ja?"

"Germany?"

"Ja."

"Come over, I need your help."

"Help with vhat?"

"It's about your brother..."

"Vhat has Prussia gotten himself into now?"

"He... well... he won't come down from the chandelier..." There was a long silence on the other end... "Germany?"

"Ja... vell, he'll come down eventually, I'm sure."

"That wasn't really my concern..."

"Then vhat is it?"

"I'm worried he'll fall..."

"He'll be fine, believe me. He know how to fall without breaking anything."

"Well... the thing is... Well, long story short, I may have accidentally turned him, France, and Spain into children... Babies, actually..." There was a longer silence on Germany's end.

"And he's on the chandelier?"

"Yes. I don't want to take my eyes off him in case he falls..." _I already let Spain chew on glass..._

"In that case, I'll be over in a little vhile..." Germany promptly hung up and England resumed watching over the three children- Prussia esspecially.


End file.
